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Homeless No More!
Things have been…shockingly okay, all things considered?
Sure, Dream’s body is kind of in ruins still. He’s only just getting to the point where he has energy again, can tolerate a mostly-normal meal, he has nightmares every night, there are times he feels like screaming, and Vio is probably right that he desperately needs therapy, but, y’know other than those pesky details…pretty good!
And, yeah, he’s still not entirely comfortable with Vio, but he’s not entirely comfortable with anything at this point.
If nothing else, he enjoys getting under the guy’s skin in subtle ways.
Look, he kind of needs to find the line of what Vio can tolerate in order to feel sane. Subtle tests are part of how he’s coping with the shit he’s been through, alright?
It’s why, when Vio comes for the weekly checkup-slash-checkin, he teases, “Enjoy the snow?”
He’s given an utterly withering look. If he didn’t know that Vio was trying to heal him and is loathe to waste his time on ruining his own hard work, he’d be a little intimidated.
But he does know, so, well. Vio can just sulk and glare as much as he wants to.
“Fuck you.” “Maybe I should just build a house nearby,” Dream muses. “That way you can savor the cold and wet for as long as you’re my self-appointed doctor.”
“Bruhhhhh,” Techno complains from the kitchen, “My property value.”
Dream shoots back, “You’re just mad I’d be taking away one of your favorite jokes.” “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” Techno lies, bringing out a mug of tea for both of them and a mug of warm water for Vio to hold.
Techno and Dream have a fierce, ongoing debate on if the guy drinks water at all. Thus far, nobody has admitted to seeing him drink anything but the unholy eldritch sludge that he claims is ‘real coffee’.
Requests to try it have been denied on grounds of ‘your body can’t handle it’ and ‘your mind can’t handle it’ and ‘if you ask me again I’ll task Tommy with annoying you for a week. Do not test me, him, or the limits of Techno and Philza’s patience for bullshit’.
Which is awfully lame of him, but whatever. He’ll get his hands on it eventually, come hell or high water.
Vio cups the warm water in his hands, sighing in blatant relief. It’s a ritual at this point; he comes in, sheds most of his cold weather gear, and warms up near the fire with a mug in his hands while asking for updates.
“How’ve things been,” the weird doc asks, same as always.
Dream answers, “Good. Better every day. I’ve finally been allowed to help with stuff around the house more.” “The dogs’re a lot,” Techno points out. “I could have at least brushed Carl and, like, fed the chickens.” “Only you, Dream,” his friend sighs, shaking his head like Dream is the crazy one.
“I think I should start thinking about it, though,” he says, then takes a long sip. “Moving out, I mean.”
Techno protests, “You don’t need to–” “Why?”
He’s a little surprised at Vio’s tone. The doctor sounds genuinely curious, his attention entirely on Dream.
It makes him a little flustered. “I mean…sure, Techno would probably let me stay here forever, but I don’t want to. It feels…weird. I’m used to having my own space, to– to having some privacy, y’know?”
Dream shrugs, looking away. “I’m grateful, I am. I just…don’t like how it doesn’t feel like there’s a space for me, I guess?”
“You have a room,” Techno points out.
He stares at his friend. “You put a wall in your storeroom. It’s– it doesn’t even have a window, Techno.” “We can fix that,” Techno offers, gentle in a way that sometimes gets on his nerves.
“I’m not– I’m not an invalid! I can handle living, like– a little bit away. I’m doing better, Vio would literally be scolding me if I wasn’t anywhere close to ready for it.”
Swinging his focus back to said alien, he prompts, “Right, doc?”
There’s a noise of consideration. “It’s…true that you’re doing better, yes. Almost shockingly so. I have some concerns, and you’d definitely need someone nearby, but…”
Vio finally says, “I’ve certainly heard worse ideas from you in regards to your health. Like your weird fixation on my coffee, despite not even liking coffee.”
“Maybe eldritch sludge coffee will fix me, though,” he can’t help but point out.
The alien rolls his eyes. “Thus proving my point.”
Ignoring that, Dream can’t help but point out, “Phil’s crows could totally like– they could supervise, right? That way I don’t feel so babysat, but I can also have a space of my own.”
As if to prove his point, one of the things hops up onto the arm of Dream’s chair and declares, “Urna-urna-urna-urna-urna–”
“I’m going to take that as them approving that idea,” Dream states, pleased that the chaotic little things seem to be down to clown.
Vio seems to think it over, humming under his breath in the way that always means he’s seriously considering something.
Finally, his doctor says, “I think it’s a good idea. As long as you don’t do something stupid like try to use your new privacy to destroy your body.”
Dream rolls his eyes. “You say like like I try to hurt myself.” “Could’ve fooled me,” Vio snarks back.
He does like that the guy has no qualms about engaging in back-and-forths like this. Techno’s teasing has dulled a bit due to his friend not wanting to hurt him, but…it kinda does the opposite.
It makes him feel even more fragile than he knows he is. Given how long he’s spent clawing for power and control, having people afraid just to tease him feels ten times more insulting than half of the intentional abuse he’s suffered.
His body is kinda fucked up, yeah. He’d probably benefit from the therapy that Vio is pushing everyone to get, too.
But he’s not so delicate that he can’t handle jokes and ribbing.
Vio gives him fairly clear guidelines on what’s best for his physical health, and otherwise seems to take his cues on how to act from Dream himself.
It’s weirdly refreshing, having someone who just…sees a person.
Obviously, things are better than they used to be on that front, but there’s still a sense of…myth, almost. Like he’s less a person and more a story made flesh.
Vio doesn’t really carry that baggage; even what parallels he does have are in completely different contexts.
Everything that Dream hears about Theseus Was-Taken is more surreal than the last. It doesn’t help that when asked what Vio would rank Dream’s threat level compared to the people he knew on the SMPza, the bastard laughed so hard his voice went weird.
Then, to add insult to injury, Vio told him that he didn’t think that was a useful metric to know.
So, yeah– Vio doesn’t really pull his punches when it comes to verbal jabs. He’ll give just as good as he gets, if not even better.
“You sure, man?”
Techno’s question makes him blink a few times, aware he’s kind of gotten lost in his own head again. “Yeah. The crows’ll rat me out if I like, fall or whatever. And I’m sure your property value can remain intact.”
…Not that Dream can super easily get to his stashes of valuables at the moment, given they’re in hidden bases scattered around the server.
Hrm. It does pose a problem, but he might be able to get Techno to grab them…? Especially if he pays him for the service. Less because he doesn’t think Techno wouldn’t do it otherwise– he’s pretty sure he would– but more for his own peace of mind.
======
It’s only a few days later that Dream goes to sit on his chair and discovers an unexpected sight.
Foolish is in the fenced-off yard, already partway done with the skeleton of what sure as fuck looks like a house.
He stares, and Foolish eventually realizes that he’s watching.
The totem-shark-thing– he’s still not totally clear on what exactly Foolish is– waves cheerfully. “Heya!”
“...Hi? Is– you have permission for that, right?”
Foolish blinks a few times. “Uh…yeah? Techno, Phil, and Vio all greenlit–” “Vio? Why is he involved?”
Head cocking to the side, Foolish tells him, “‘Cause he’s paying for it? Paying a lot, actually! He’s my favorite client, he doesn’t ask for crazy things and pays really well.”
Dream is suddenly, acutely aware that Phil asked him what he wanted in a house, and his response had been a blunt, “Functional.”
Which still remains true, since he doesn’t really understand what makes a house look nice. He just knows when it doesn’t meet his needs and he ends up having to make ugly but functional adjustments.
He’s not sure if he wants to laugh, cry, or be angry that they didn’t bother following up further.
All three?
All three works.
At least he’ll have a nice-looking home near two of the people he most trusts, paid for by another person he trusts a lot.
It’s a good thing he’s not keeping track of his debts anymore, because he’s not sure he’d ever be able to properly repay the weird doc for all he’s done.
A Moment to Breathe
Tommy flops down on the beanbag chair he’s laid claim to in the Reformation Team offices.
Today is Wednesday, which means it’s time for the weekly desensitization gathering.
While it sounds weird, it’s actually weirder than you’d think! The purpose is to get acclimated to Vio’s weird fear-muscle-thing, so that in the (hopefully unlikely) event of an emergency, the four of them are able to move and think through it.
It’s honestly not that bad. It’s kept low enough that it doesn’t make him afraid so much as just a bit…uncomfortable.
But, well, he sees the usefulness in it. They all do, having lived through the shit they’ve lived through.
Thus, they gather every Wednesday and hang out for a few hours. No work really gets done, but they’re working towards something anyway.
Given how much work they actually get through, the break is welcome.
Plus Vio springs for snacks. Tommy loves the snacks.
So does Ranboo, who always zeroes in on the most tooth-rottingly sweet thing presented and hogging it all to himself, the selfish bastard.
Hero is there too, pretending to sleep.
Tommy knows that it’s only pretend because if there’s something that the eldritch horrorterror wants to comment on, he’ll gleefully do so without actually “waking up”.
Man, watching him melt the prison was delightful.
So is the fact that Hero likes scritches.
Giving an eldritch abomination scritches is up there with one of the coolest things Tommy has ever done and can even fathom.
Thus, Hero is quick to lay down next to him and stare at him with his big, too-intelligent eyes.
Tommy snorts, reaching over to give the not-dog what he wants.
Ranboo notes, between inhales of frosted jelly doughnuts, “Sometimes I forget he’s not actually a dog.”
Tommy laughs. “I never fuckin’ forget, ‘cause he’s the poggest, most badass guy I’ve ever met. Who’s a fuckin’ awesome eldritch abomination, huh? Who’s able to melt solid fuckin’ obsidian with weird eldritch goop that’s probably mutating all the fuckin’ fish, hmm?”
Tag wagging, Hero wuffs in his too-deep tone, grinning a mostly-doggy grin with entirely too many teeth that are too sharp.
“Yeah, s’ right, s’ you! You’re the best fuckin’ eldritch horrorterror there ever fuckin’ was, yes you are!”
His com pings, and he takes it out to look at it with one hand.
Hero: cult?
If it were up to Tommy, he would absolutely greenlight a cult. Hell, he’d probably be a leader in it.
Regretfully, he says, “Sorry, big man. Vio says no.”
“Is he asking for a cult again,” Vio groans, making a face at the idea. “No, you may not make a cult. Stop trying to make one!”
Hero: vio = lame = loser
“Bit of a wet blanket sometimes, yeah,” Tommy agrees.
Look, he might adore the weirdass alien doctor that decided to perform spiteful acts of kindness, but Tommy is not above calling him lame for refusing to let the poggest cult ever be formed.
Vio just rolls his eyes and goes back to his book.
Purpled, who is playing a game of some sort on his com, comments, “I can think of worse bosses.”
He gets flashbacks of what Tubbo suffered through during Manberg, of Wilbur– pretty much since he decided to form L’manburg, of Sam–
“Yeah.”
What else could he possibly say without dredging up the ugly past and tanking the mood?
There’s another deep wuff, and Hero scoots forward to lay his head in Tommy’s lap.
He snorts, putting his com down to give more thorough scritches with both hands.
Hero deserves nothing less, after all.
Undead Prez’s Second Term
Dream has gotten used to Tommy popping up every so often.
It’s…weirdly nice? Given how much bad blood they used to have and how catastrophically things spiraled out of control thanks to both of them, it’s a shock that Dream finds himself mostly enjoying the visits.
Not that Tommy can’t be a bit…much.
Some days, Dream just can’t handle the endless chatter. Other days, he craves literally anything but silence.
Today, he can tell that Tommy has something on his mind. The teen’s nervous energy is off the charts, setting Dream’s teeth on edge as topics shift and jump around.
Finally, he has to interrupt to sigh, “I can tell you want something, Tommy.”
There’s a flinch. “Oh, well! Now that you fuckin’ mention it…”
Despite not being rebuffed, Tommy seems nervous– seems almost afraid.
After several false starts and awkward trailing-offs, Dream gets a bit annoyed. “Dude, I’m not gonna bite your head off. Spit it out.”
“I miss Wilbur.”
Ah.
Dream can’t say he feels the same, but–
Well, he can’t very well leave him where he is. It’s…not really a place people are meant to stay.
He really didn’t mean for things to end up the way they did, in regards to what they’ve apparently called limbo. It just kinda…happened?
Not that they could understand him, even if he tried to explain himself.
And even if they could, he really doesn’t have enough faith in the rest of the server to walk back arguably his most disastrous fuckup in an ocean of bad decisions.
Instead of getting into literally any of that, he instead says, “You think the server is ready for him?”
Tommy grimaces. “Dunno. I bet fuckin’ Vio’d choke him if he tried to pull shit again, though, so…close enough?”
Yeah, that’s a decent plan. “You’ve talked with him about this, right?”
There’s a humorless laugh and a bitter twist to Tommy’s expression. “Yeah, real fuckin’ fun chat, that was. ‘Hey, big man, I know your whole fuckin’ deal is keepin’ the peace, but I feel bad about leaving my older brother in his own personal hell. I know he’s quick to start wars n’ has a way’ve twisting words around until you don’t know up from down, but the guilt is kinda eating me alive.’”
Dream winces. “Did he take it well?” “Oh, yeah, took it great. Told me that if Wilbur tried to make another fuckin’ country, he’d put ‘im in baby jail. Dunno what the fuck that means, n’ I was too afraid to ask.”
Good to know. “I agree. Countries were stupid from the get-go. I hated all of them, because that wasn’t the point. I invited you all here to have a home and friends, not– not divide ourselves up and fight each other.”
Tommy shoves his hands into the pocket of the oversized sweater he’s wearing. “He made it sound like everything I fuckin’ wanted. Righteous, too.” “L’manburg started as a drug van, Tommy.”
He’s shot an unamused look. “I know! I fuckin’ know, alright? He just– he has a way of convincing you.”
With a sigh, Dream gets to his feet.
Tommy’s brow furrows, mouth opening– probably to argue– and Dream nods to the door of his newish home. “Let’s call Vio over to supervise this. I need a relatively unbiased party here to…scruff him, let’s say.”
He pulls out his com to call for the doc, not bothering to wait for Tommy’s brain to process that.
======
It’s only a few hours later that things are ready.
Despite wanting Vio on standby, Dream doesn’t want him in the same room. There’s too many questions that would be asked– questions that Dream doesn’t want to answer.
So…he goes into his basement for it.
He’s almost afraid to start the process. He hasn’t tried to open his console since the Vault, even though he should be able to again.
If he can’t, he’s not sure he’d be able to take it.
But he can’t keep putting this off. He can’t force Wilbur to stay in his own personal hell, not for something as petty as Dream’s own fears.
Taking a sharp breath, he shove his wrist upwards.
His legs nearly give out as the transparent window opens as it should.
Thank the gods; this, at least, hasn’t been completely taken from him.
He executes the command, yanking Wilbur from limbo to the real world.
The man stares at him, something unreadable on his face.
Eventually, Wilbur breathes, “...Dream?”
“In the flesh,” he answers, closing the window and shoving his hands in his pockets. “A lot has happened since you were last around.”
“I know Quackity was murdered in cold blood–” “I have no sympathy for that sociopath. I’m also pretty sure that he ignored several warnings to back the fuck off, so, y’know, he kinda brought it on himself.”
He steps forward, and a part of him is pleased when Wilbur backs up a step. “I want you to understand something. I don’t like you. You sowed chaos and war in my server.” “But you revived me,” Wilbur says, seeming puzzled.
Ignoring the unspoken question, Dream continues, “You aren’t allowed to start a new country or instigate wars. If you do, you’re getting kicked and banned.”
Wilbur scoffs. “An ultimatum? Really?” “See, I happen to be familiar with you now. I know better than to leave you entirely to your own devices,” Dream answers.
He’ll be damned if he doesn’t do whatever he needs to in order to keep this precious, fragile peace intact.
If that means ousting Wilbur and risking the loss of Phil, Techno, maybe even Tommy…?
Well, it’d be a damn shame. But he can’t choose them over the everyone else’s wellbeing.
Before Wilbur can try to twist things around, Dream goes and opens the door to Vio and an extremely nervous-looking Tommy.
He puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “We won’t let him run circles around us, don’t worry. And if you, uh, understandably don’t have much faith in me…”
Dream nods towards Vio, who is entering the room Wilbur is in. “Have faith in him.”
Tommy exhales, nodding and seeming a little relieved. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I gotta…trust him. Vio’s– Vio wouldn’t get caught up in Wil’s…everything.” “Exactly. Have faith in the weird alien doc that decided to force us into peace, even if some people are being dragged there kicking and screaming.”
There’s a shriek of, “What the bloody hell are you?!”
The two of them look at each other and can’t help but laugh.
Maybe Wilbur will cause trouble, but maybe he won’t.
Either way, they can rely on Vio to teach Wilbur that his previous bullshit will no longer be tolerated.
And isn’t it a relief to know that Dream isn’t the only one who wants peace more than anything.
Handmade With Annoyance
Tommy Innit has a problem.
A huge, glaring, messy problem that stares at him every gods-damned day.
It’s– look, he adores Vio, he does! The guy is one of the best things to ever happen to him, and he’s cool as hell to boot.
Except, well…
It’s his doctor’s coats, see.
He doesn’t take issue with the color– though it can be a bit of a strain on the eyes at times.
No, his problem is that they’re stained.
And, okay– Tommy doesn’t exactly have room to talk, not when his own clothes can get pretty funky.
But also, he’s getting a lot better about that now that they’re not in a constant state of war or pre-war! So Vio has no excuses, other than simply being bad at not spilling things all over his coats.
Those things seeming to be an equal amount of blood and, more upsettingly, the nightmarish sludge that Vio insists is “real” coffee.
He snuck a taste once and the whites of his eyes turned back for a week…among other, less fun side effects.
Anyway, the point is, Vio seems to own at least five of his neon purple doctor’s coats, and not a single one is unstained.
Being the mature, awesome guy that he is, Tommy has decided to remedy that problem.
When he’s finally done, he finds himself nervous. Maybe his work isn’t good enough; maybe Vio doesn’t want something that’s kinda-sorta-a-little-bit of an insult.
Or maybe Tommy is just being a pussy and needs to just. Do it.
That thought in his mind, he squares his shoulders and marches up to his very cool but usually very chill boss.
Vio raises his sandy blonde eyebrows in a silent yes?, his thermos almost to his mouth.
Tommy almost slams the box on the table. “Your labcoats’re shit,” he says.
Wait, that’s the wrong tone.
“Unprofessional,” he clarifies, sniffing indignantly. “All– stained n’ whatnot.”
Seeming bemused, Vio sets his thermos down and opens the giftbox.
There’s an unreadable expression on the alien’s face as he takes in the sight of six brand new and neatly folded neon purple lab coats.
Each one has been embroidered with flowers– flowers that he and the rest of the team poured over to choose for themselves…and for Vio.
Sure, violets might’ve been the obvious choice. But those mean shit like mysticism, everlasting love, and innocence.
So not really a good fit for Vio, in their eyes.
Instead, they settled on hyssops for Vio– protection, health, humility; poppies for Tommy– hope, resilience, peace, remembrance; zinnias for Tubbo– endurance, lasting friendship, remembrance; alliums for Ranboo– strength, patience, prosperity; and, lastly, scorpionweed for Purpled– endurance, strength, determination.
All of the flowers have been meticulously embroidered on the bright purple fabric, Tommy having wanted to make sure he got it right.
Vio’s weird hoof-fingers trace the work that Tommy spent so many borderline sleepless nights working on in secret.
There’s a weird noise that Tommy thinks is some kind of electronic buzzing at first.
And then he listens closer, and realizes that it’s…a rumble.
No. It’s a purr.
And Vio’s pupils are dilated.
He jumps as Vio leans over and pulls him into a tight hug. “This means a lot to me. Thank you, Tommy.”
Heart soaring and smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt, he hugs his boss back and says, “Now, if you ruin these ones, I’m gonna team up with Hero n’ dump snow on you in your sleep.”
Despite the threat, Vio laughs, and Tommy knows he’ll be spending weeks riding this high.